


Of Blood Stains and Serial Killers

by HoneyBeeez



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Comfort, Lance being a sweetie and totally understanding, Menstrual Cycles, Other, Pidge just needs a hug, this is exactly the kind of team bonding nobody asked for BUT LOOKIE HERE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBeeez/pseuds/HoneyBeeez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Lance expects to find when he walks into the bathroom at four in the morning is Pidge, much less Pidge washing a pair of underwear in the sink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Blood Stains and Serial Killers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first voltron fanfic, so any and all criticism is welcome!  
> Also, there's mentions of blood, so if you're uncomfortable with that, please hit the back button! Thank you!  
> (For @blitzboy004 on tumblr, who encouraged me to write it!)

The last thing Lance expects to find when he walks into the bathroom at four in the morning is Pidge, much less Pidge washing a pair of underwear in the sink.

He stands there, rooted to the spot, as they look over their shoulder, their eyes blown wide with fear. The tap is still running, and Lance can make out traces of blood accompanying the water as it goes down the drain.

Lance knows they are technically a girl, well at least he knew _now_ , but the sight still leaves his head spinning a bit, trying to grasp it all at the same time.

_It is their time of the month, it’s kinda inevitable, but it’s also really personal, and oh gods, that’s really blood there, they’re staring at me, I have to do something, anything_ -

“I-I’ll just-”

“Please don’t tell anyone!” Pidge whisper-yells, turning off the tap and dropping the undergarment in the sink, before wiping their hands off on their sleep shirt. “I don’t want anyone treating me differently, and I especially don’t want everyone knowing that I’m _bleeding_ -”

“Spit on it,” Lance blurts out, catching Pidge’s confused expression before pointing at the sink. “Spit on it, and then rub it. Then stain should come out almost all the way after a few tries.” Pidge looks at him, then at the sink, and then back at him, baffled and confused and _tired_ and _disgusted_ all at the same time.

“H-How…how did you… what…?” they get out, every time failing to find words that goes with the rest of their questions.

“I have, like, two older sisters, and they’re _very_ open about this kind of stuff,” Lance says, shrugging it off. He sees Pidge’s shoulders slump at the reference to the situation. “Plus, it’s kind of useful to know how to get blood of your clothes, don’tcha think?” He throws in the joke as a feeble attempt to get back some kind of normalcy, and it works, since Pidge chuckles.

“Only you would find that piece of information useful,” they say, turning back to the sink, picking up the underwear, and spitting loudly onto the stain.

“Hey, _you’re_ finding it useful right now,” Lance counters, putting a hand on his hip and leveling them a teasing glare. Pidge only rolls their eyes and spits again before scrubbing at the stain with a different edge of the garment.

“Yeah, but _you_ just sound like a serial killer in the making,” they retort, and Lance balks at the comment before realizing what he got up for in the first place.

“I’m not a serial killer,” he says, sticking his tongue out at them as he slides past, making his way towards the enclosed toilet in the corner (thank god for Altean forethought and disregard for gendered bathrooms, and their practically designed alternative bathrooms).

“That’s what serial killers say,” Pidge remarks when he’s done. As he walks out of the enclosed space, he barely catches the movement of Pidge throwing the underwear down in the laundry shoot.

“Yeah, yeah, say what you will. But I’ll have you know that I have not killed anyone,” Lance says, washing his hands quickly before looking back at Pidge. “Did it come out okay?”

“Yeah, thanks to you,” they say, sighing a little. “Look, I… I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this. At all. It’s kind of embarrassing and I hate it, and it makes me really uncomfortable so-”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Lance says, miming zipping up his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. Pidge smiles a little at that, which makes Lance smile in return; they really shouldn’t have that look of embarrassment or insecurity on their face, anyways. “But, if you need anything, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Lance.”

“No, I’m serious, I could probably even sneak in Allura’s bathroom and see if she has some-”

“ _Thank you, Lance_ ,” Pidge grits out, their cheeks a shade of red he’d never seen before. Lance stops immediately, recalling a case his sisters talked about on earth where a lady got away with murder because she was on her period and therefore chemically imbalanced. He wondered briefly if the justice system in space differed, but he let it go.

“No problem,” he says after a quick pause, bowing grandly in return.

“We should probably go back to bed before Allura hits us with another mock drill in the morning, huh?” Pidge says, adjusting their glasses and releasing a breath Lance didn’t know they were holding in.

“Yeah, that might be best,” Lance says as they both walk out the bathroom. Pidge’s room is closer, so when they get there, they both pause a bit awkwardly, knowing to say something but not knowing _what_. “Get some rest, okay?” Lance settles on saying, feeling a bit safe to say so.

“Yeah, okay,” Pidge resigns, before slipping into their room.

Lance disappears into his own room after that, thinking about how uncomfortable Pidge could be feeling, how they would be feeling throughout the next week. He only hopes that they’ll be okay.

When everyone wakes up the next morning, Pidge and Lance act like nothing’s out of the ordinary. Sure, Lance notices that they don’t eat much at breakfast or lunch, but they’re still throwing themselves into training just as much as they always do. And, as per request, when they spar, Lance doesn’t take it easy on them.

(Pidge still wins, though, pinning Lance to the floor with their bayard at his throat, but Lance doesn’t complain in the slightest.)

After dinner, though, Lance is talking to Hunk in the common room about cheesy movies they’ve seen back on earth (High School Musical being one of them, and then there’s a waterfall of references to the songs to go with them), when Pidge trudges into the room.

“Whoa, you okay there, buddy?” Hunk says, breaking away from their laughable rendition of “Bop To The Top” to level Pidge a worried glance. “You look kind pale.”

“Mmph,” Pidge grunts, sitting next to Lance for a second before slumping over. They rest their head on Lance’s chest and tuck their legs up on the couch.

“You alright?” Lance whispers, letting his arm fall from the top of the couch to rest around their shoulders.

“It hurts,” they whisper back, their words slurred slightly.

“Uh, everything okay, there?” Hunk asks, leaning forward and looking every bit like a worried sibling.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Lance says, shrugging it off and going back to their conversation with ease, although he speaks much quieter than before.

And, well, if Pidge ends up falling asleep curled up next to him, and Lance has to carry them back to their room, then no one mentions it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Pidge just needs a lot of love, dont you think??  
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!  
> Love you! Stay safe, and smile lots today!  
> -HB


End file.
